


Destruction for the Assurance of Love

by IWillBeYourPet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Comfort/Angst, Dark Will Graham, Dom/sub, Feral Behavior, Fledgling Killer Will, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Manipulation, Murder Husbands, Overstimulation, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Psychological Trauma, Top Hannibal Lecter, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Will Graham is a Mess, Will is not okay, non consensual exhibitionism, violence between lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeYourPet/pseuds/IWillBeYourPet
Summary: **All WIPs on temp hiatus**Maybe they are still in the water, Will thinks, sinking into the dark depths never to be seen again.Except he knows that isn't true because he doesn't die.Just drowns and drowns and drowns.Will is looking forward to his first kill in this new life, with some missteps. I have a soft spot for a fledgling killer Will eager for carnage.  Hannibal seems to have one too.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	Destruction for the Assurance of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I never ripped the petals off the flowers.  
> I never believed in destruction for the  
> assurance of love, but you did-  
> and you pulled me apart  
> until the last piece of me  
> screamed I love you still
> 
> -Cat Burnal

Will held his breath as he slipped out of their bed, darting a glance at Hannibal sleeping soundly, padding across the floor as quietly as he could. He’d left the door ajar so he wouldn’t have to push it open, and he was going to fix that it squeaked any day now, and slipped through the small opening. 

In the hallway he waited patiently, out of view of the room, glancing at his watch. A full 30 minutes to make sure that Hannibal was really asleep and not pretending, that he wouldn’t be followed, and he headed towards the stairs. 

Life after the fall had been an… adjustment. An education.

Both badly injured Hannibal had still carried him out of the water, found them somewhere safe, fixed him up. Coddled him and fed him and helped him put back together all the pieces of himself that had shattered. It had felt like the pieces didn’t fit anymore but Hannibal had soothed him. Told him the pieces fit fine, it was just a new picture they were making.

And Will had found it easy to admit the picture they were making was beautiful. 

Once he stopped fighting, gave in to what he felt, it was difficult to remember why he had been so resistant. Sometimes he wondered if he was traumatized, living permanently in shock. It didn’t matter.

So in this new life he stuck close to Hannibal, and watched him leave to hunt. It was the only way his mind saw it anymore. Not murder, a predator on a hunt. The first few times Hannibal warily watched Will, seeing how he would react, but when he was met with curiosity bordering on indifference he had settled into their routine. Hannibal would hunt while Will stayed in their den as he called it, curled up in blankets, refusing to leave the small safe space Hannibal had created for him.

Unchanged until one day when Hannibal prepared to leave for his hunt Will had shoved off the couch, sitting on the floor next to Hannibal’s feet, pulling on his own boots. Once they were on he had stayed where he was, eyes going up to meet the other man’s expectantly. He could feel the weight of Hannibal’s gaze as he assessed him and a hand finally dropped, dragging through his curls, giving them a slight tug and a smile. “Alright, let’s go then.”

And still he had only watched. Trailing after Hannibal like a stray dog, head tilted, chin in his hands as Hannibal stalked and killed and tore apart.

The first time Will joined him, moving forward without warning or invitation to pick up a knife, was the first night they fucked. Before that night they had touched, kissed, but it had stayed in a state of limbo, waiting on Will to accept what he was. What the two of them were. The floodgates had opened, Will had blood on his hands, there was no going back and it had seemed like the simplest thing in the world to give himself completely over to Hannibal.

Things were different after that. Like it had unlocked some deep feral animal in him, and oh, that animal liked nothing better than to be covered in blood and rolling at Hannibal’s feet, needy and demanding. Showing his belly even as he bared bloody teeth.

When they had put the pieces back together there were gaps, but he had never felt empty. No, Hannibal had filled them all.

But he wanted _more_. He obediently took to killing like a cub being taught to hunt by a Lion, though for the sake of his sanity he shied away from the paternal comparison. But he was all grown up now, with his own desires. And he desperately wanted to follow them.

And that was where the lenience he had been receiving since he threw them off the cliff had ended. So unused to getting a firm no from the other man he hadn’t quite understood at first, hadn’t taken it seriously. Had told Hannibal he would do as he pleased.

Two fractured noses had been the result, one for each of them. Two fingers had been broken in the struggle, both his. Countless bruises, a cracked rib, and red angry lines around his wrists for a week where he had dug into the restraints he had been left in for days.

After that though he had curled around Hannibal in bed while gentle hands soothed down his back, his flanks, kisses pressed to the top of his head as Hannibal told him that his time would come. That he wasn’t ready yet. To trust him to know what was best.

And he did. But the urge ate away at him, tugged at him, and he knew Hannibal had to see it, could tell the man knew by the way Hannibal lavished him with praise for listening and doing as he was told. Words that felt better than the kill ever would be.

No one's control was endless though.

Will knew what he wanted in a victim, no matter what had changed in him he still wanted _his_ victim to be someone that deserved it. Someone that did bad things. And he picked out the perfect person, a rapist, a murderer that no one would particularly miss. That would deserve everything that Will wanted to do. 

In his spare time when Hannibal wasn’t home he researched. He squirreled away information until he was ready. And consequences from Hannibal be damned he waited until his prey would be vulnerable and waited for Hannibal to fall asleep and went on the hunt. His hunt, his victim. Let Hannibal have the sheep, he wanted the wolf.

It didn’t go as planned.

He followed in the shadows as he watched the man, _Bradley_ , head back to his apartment. He always took the back of the building, probably out of habit even though tonight the man had no one with him. He disappeared around the corner towards where Will knew the building's stairs were, and taking a deep breath to steady himself Will followed.

Leaning slightly around the corner he looked up at the stairs and expected to see the man’s retreating back but there was no one there. He swallowed nervously, his new instincts suddenly screaming that something was wrong. 

“And who the fuck are you?”

Will turned towards the voice to see Bradley leaning against the wall, holding a gun out casually, head tilted as he looked Will up and down. Will wasn’t his normal victim type, but he was close enough that he could see the interest on the man’s face. 

The last thing he saw was the butt of the gun coming towards his face and everything went black.

Will’s senses came back to him slowly, and he didn’t like what he could tell. His eyes stayed close, trying not to move, as he assessed himself. He was laying on a metal table on his stomach, naked. His head ached and His shoulder burned, about where he knew that Bradley liked to mark his victims. 

His legs were splayed somewhat out, what felt like a restraint around one ankle, keeping his leg from pulling in. He didn’t think he’d been violated, though slowly he realized there was a hand settled on his upper leg, fingers curled around so the tips pressed into his inner thigh. 

A sob worked it’s way up his chest as he tried to stay calm. Though he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to give away yet that he was awake, a shiver ran through his body. The hand on his thigh tightened for a moment before the pads of the fingers tapped gently, a small hum from the man.

The relief washed over Will so fast he thought he might be sick. He knew those fingers, should have realized it right away, but even if he didn’t there was no mistaking the sound of his voice. Hannibal.

He pried his eyes open as he turned his head in that direction, though his vision was blurry and hard to focus. He blinked his eyes a few more times until he could make out the man sitting there watching him, the book he had been reading settled in his lap, his free hand still on Will’s thigh. He tried to clear his throat, tried to talk, but his mouth was dry like it had been shoved full of cotton. 

What he finally did get out wasn’t exactly the gratitude or pleading he intended. “Did you drug me?”

“No, Mylimasis.” There was a dangerous growl to Hannibal’s words and Will couldn’t help it as he winced.

“He did?”

“Yes.”

Will licked his lips, trying to get his brain to work, but it was fuzzy. He needed to know what had happened, but there were things that were more pressing. 

He tried to roll on to his back but the cuff at his ankle stopped him and he tugged on in before his eyes found Hannibal’s again. The man watched him but then stood to undo it, murmuring quietly, “I didn’t want you to bolt as soon as you awoke and hurt yourself.”

As soon as his ankle was free he rolled onto his back, reaching for Hannibal’s hand. The man let him, and he pressed it over his belly, along the scar there, even as he tilted his head baring his throat. 

Submitted in the wild animal way that seemed as natural to him now as breathing. He was painfully aware of how badly he had disobeyed the other man, and before anything else he needed to acknowledge that. To show how nicely he would submit as an apology.

Hannibal’s eyes were cold, not giving anything away, but his fingers traced the scar he had left there gently. They dug in around it for a moment, like he was considering digging claws into Will’s soft underbelly and ripping it open, but the tension left from his hand as it slid up Will’s chest to his throat. 

He averted his gaze, shutting his eyes tightly but Hannibal’s hand barely even tightened enough to feel his fingers before it dropped away. He spoke, the undercurrent of anger still there, but it had softened, “Come on, back to your stomach. Your shoulder is injured, I need to attend to it.”

Now that he mentioned it Will became aware of the sharp pain and did his best to lift his shoulder away from the table, letting himself be nudged back to his stomach by firm hands. He pressed his cheek against the metal and muttered out, “You followed me.”

“You are not quite the capable predator you think you are, Will. Not yet.”

The words hurt and he brought one arm up so he could press his face against it, surprised Hannibal let him hide away. A hand at his shoulder pushed him flat to his stomach, fingers tracing what must be knife marks.

“Not like you haven’t put me in more danger than that before.”

“It’s different now, Will. Your continued existence is important to me.” He could feel the man shrug even if he couldn’t see it, “I was curious how you would do, it seems I was right though, yes? You walked yourself into a trap.” 

It made Will realize something and his jaw clenched, “You let him catch me.”

“I did.”

“You let him cut me?”

“Just a little. It seemed only fair, I was going to ultimately deny him his prey.”

Will shoved up before he thought about it and the hand that grabbed him by the curls and shoved his head down hard enough to bounce off the table was not gentle. “Stay put.”

He whined, wishing he could curl up in a ball, holding still until the fingers in his hair loosened and then let go, soothing the spot. Couldn’t help snapping out, “I’m not prey.”

“Tonight you were. Could smell it on you. He could smell it on you.”

The pressure at his eyes was surely tears but Will refused to acknowledge it. Out of spite he mumbled, “Did you let him fuck me too?”

“Of course not, Will. I barely let him touch you at all. Just a taste of his blade, that’s it. As a lesson.”

He was still angry, embarrassed now that the fear had faded, “Wouldn’t do to let him mess up your property, would it?” There was no verbal response, just hands petting him, and finally he huffed out a breath of air. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” The hands slid down his flanks, before slipping to the insides of his thighs, pressing until he spread them and the sound he made was a different huff. He tried to pull his knees under him, wiggle until he could lift his ass up, whining when he was pushed back down flat. He did spread his legs more though, shivering as his cock took an interest, closing his eyes to concentrate on the fingers trailing between his ass cheeks now.

“I want you to think for a moment Will, about what could have happened if I had not followed you.”

He didn’t want to. He had felt the fear when he first woke up, shameful cringing terror and he whimpered. He knew what would have happened, he had seen pictures of the victims, knew that he wouldn’t have lived much longer than it took for the drugs to wear off. And that was only because he liked his victims awake for the end. All at once gratitude hit him, and despite that he had been told to stay still he rolled slightly onto the shoulder that wasn’t injured, meeting Hannibal’s eyes. “Thank you.” The words didn’t seem enough to convey what he was thinking. What he was feeling.

“I will always protect you, Will.” The words sent a jolt down his spine, making him buck and whine with need. It wasn’t enough to hear it, he had come close to death, again, and he needed the physical proof.

He pulled his knees under himself again, and was allowed it this time. He was going to be punished, he knew it, but couldn’t stop himself from mewling under the man’s touch. He pressed his knees further apart, his chest to the table, crying out when instead of taking the offer Hannibal’s hands dropped from his ass to touch his shoulder again, this time with the sharp bite of alcohol to clean it.

It burned and he rubbed his forehead on the table, whining and taking deep shuddering breaths while Hannibal cleaned off the wound and bandaged it, seemingly indifferent to Will’s desperation. 

Without any warning the hands were gone from his shoulder as two fingers shoved inside him, nearly toppling him forward in surprise. It hurt in a way that told him there was no lube, immediately pulling his attention from his shoulder and he moaned into his arm, pressing back against the burn as they scissored him roughly.

The fingers pulled out and were replaced a moment later with something much thicker and he had no idea when Hannibal had even gotten undressed, much less climbed on the table behind him. The shock and drugs were making it hard for him to follow everything. His head still throbbing from the butt of the gun.

There was lube now, because Hannibal wouldn’t ever hurt him in _that_ way, but the man was big and pushed in relentlessly. Will couldn’t help it as his body tensed, trying to stop the intrusion as he was stretched, but Hannibal only tutted and held Will down with one hand to the nape of his neck as he continued to push in. It may not damage him but it didn’t mean it felt _good_. Hannibal didn’t stop until he was pressed all the way in, hips against Will’s thighs.

Will only had a second to catch his breath and try to relax before Hannibal pulled out, slamming back in hard enough to pull a cry from Will’s mouth, and he tried to smother them against his arms, not wanting to give Hannibal the satisfaction.

The hand on his nape slipped to the back of his head, not grabbing, just settling his palm over it as Hannibal leaned over him. His voice was a snarl, and Will could picture the bared teeth behind it, “You were disobedient. You were bad.”

It stung, especially when he knew the words were deserved. He pulled his face out of the shelter of his arms to whimper out, “I’m sorry.” He should take his punishment with some dignity, well aware that was what this was, but he found he wasn’t that great at controlling his emotions these days. He never had been, but all the barriers, all the walls he had built didn’t exist anymore. Not with Hannibal. “I couldn’t help it. I _had_ to.”

There was a chuckle at that, Hannibal shifting his weight as the thrusts lost their punishing edge, until it felt good and Will moaned, pressing back against him. Hannibal’s voice softer against his throat, “I know, pet. So eager to test those kitten teeth out, prove how dangerous you are. And you will get to,” there was a particularly hard thrust that made Will grunt, “when I allow it.”

His indignation couldn’t gain any traction under the sensations of Hannibal holding him down and fucking him like he owned him. Which he might as well. So he rode out the thrusts, his own cock half hard without being touched, filling out as Hannibal took the care to hit that spot inside him, moaning with abandon, sure that he wasn’t going to be punished more. 

He scrambled to grab the side of the table when the thrusts sped up, toes curling at the almost too much drag of Hannibal’s dick against his rim. Found the energy to pant out, “What happened to Bradley?” Cock twitching at the thought of hearing how Hannibal killed his attacker, what he may have done to him, certain that Hannibal could feel him clench around him with the thoughts.

“Oh.” The hand on the back of his head tightened in his curls, jerking his head up suddenly, and he was unprepared for the viciousness in the tone. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

It took long seconds for him to understand, for his eyes to focus, and then he was being forced to look at a very alive man tied to a chair not that far from them. Close enough that Will should have noticed, should have seen him and Hannibal was right about one thing - he was a terrible predator tonight.

He wanted to look away but he couldn’t, not with Hannibal’s grip. Bradley’s eyes were on him, and even though he must know that he was going to die, it didn’t stop him from eyeing Will with a leer, lust on his face. He was tried down, double gagged probably to keep him quiet from Will until Hannibal decided to point him out. Will closed his eyes as humiliation and rage burned through his body, like his blood itself was acid, with the way he was being shown off. Displayed. 

“What’s wrong Will? Isn’t this what you wanted? _Your_ victim, practically gift wrapped for you.”

“St-stop.” He felt sick, stomach twisted at the mocking in Hannibal’s voice. He could feel Hannibal looking over him, some kind of silent conversation between him and Brad, and then an arm slid around Will’s chest pulling him into an upward kneel, the change in position making him slide in deeper as Hannibal growled at his neck.

His eyes blinked open in surprise, just enough to see Bradley’s eyes scan down his body, nowhere to hide now, settling on his cock and he squeezed them shut again. Hannibal’s other hand came around his hips to grip his cock and Will snarled, shoving the man’s hand off of him. He’d hold still, he’d let the man fuck him like this, but he wouldn’t enjoy it.

“What’s wrong, Will?” The faux concern in Hannibal’s voice made him snarl again, and it was really beneath the man to play this game. “Come on Will, take this like my good boy.”

He wanted to swear at him, to fight him, but he knew how it would end. He was pissed, as frustrated as he was hurt, but every part of him ached to be with Hannibal. To belong with him, to belong _to_ him, so he knew how it would end. So he dropped his hands, a small broken sound at the back of his throat when Hannibal slid his fist over him, thumbing at his slit.

He tried to hold back the sounds he wanted to make, the moans, and he did well until Hannibal nuzzled against the side of his neck, pressing teeth to his skin. He howled at it, rocking back against Hannibal without thinking, tilting his head to give him better access. 

A sound from the man a few feet away, loud enough that he even heard it through the gags, brought him back. The man was _turned on_ , and Will could feel the build up of pressure in his chest, behind his eyes, but he refused to cry. He’d suffered worse things than some humiliation but this felt different. Doing exactly what Hannibal wanted him to and still his face was being rubbed in his failure.

“Please, Hannibal.” He placed one hand on Hannibal’s wrist, not trying to push him away, but making it obvious what he wanted. “Please stop.” Barely a whisper, voice broken and soft. Subdued.

Hannibal pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw and pulled both hands away, letting Will drop down to the table as he grabbed the man’s hips to pick up the speed of the thrusts, pulling the smaller body back onto his cock with each forward movement. 

He didn’t care, rocking back against Hannibal, clenching down, anything that would make the man cum quicker and this would be over. They’d finish here, Hannibal would kill the other man, and they could probably have a nice roast of him for dinner. Back to normal. He had to give it to the man, he had been effective in reminding Will of his place.

Fingers tightened on his hips, leaving bruises, and he knew Hannibal was close. A few more thrusts, erratic as he lost his rhythm, and then Hannibal’s weight was over him as he ground down, pressing as deep into him as he could as he bit the back of Will’s neck. Marking him.

There was the feeling of Hannibal’s cock throbbing in him, warm cum filling him up, along with the sharp bite of teeth and it was nearly enough to make him cum himself but he closed his eyes and bit down until he tasted blood to keep from giving in.

When Hannibal finally pushed off him, tucking himself away because of course the man hadn’t even taken off his clothes to fuck him, Will moved as quick as he could. He rolled until he could scramble off the table, wobbling dangerously for a moment as he got a head rush, and he didn’t even take a moment to enjoy the startled look on Hannibal’s face. 

No, he simply stalked towards the other side of the room, heading for the exit from the basement, uncaring about his state of nudity. Or rather, unable to do anything about it. He was all the way to the door, hand on the latch when Hannibal spoke up, “Come back here, Will.”

He didn’t want to. He leaned his forehead against the door, fingers clenching on the latch, body shaking as a single sob made it out when he could feel cum dripping down his thighs. He was prey, wasn’t he.

“Will.”

Another sob as he turned to face Hannibal, unable to help his eyes from darting to the other man in the room, before they settled on Hannibal. “Please.”

“Come here Will, don’t you want to finish your hunt?” When Will still didn’t move he lowered his voice, “Now.”

It had him pushing off the door immediately, heading towards Hannibal, stopping in front of him with his eyes locked on the ground. No eye contact tonight. Hands came up to pet his head, affectionately tugging on the curls, and it was clear Hannibal’s anger had faded with his orgasm. Affectionate now. The hands dropped lower, sliding over Will’s naked body until they rested just above his cock, “Go ahead and kill him Will, and then I’ll take care of you.” Hannibal’s hand slid down to just brush along his cock, still shamefully hard and leaking, but Will pulled back shaking his head. 

“I don’t want to kill him.” Even to him it sounded petulant but he took another step back.

Hannibal seemed honestly confused as he looked from Will to the man, “I know that you do not have qualms about killing, Will. Kill him and then I will reward you.”

Will glanced at Bradley again, too overwhelmed to speak for a few moments. He needed Hannibal to understand this, the other man _should_ understand this. It was a sick mockery of his hunt, humiliated in front of the man and then _offered_ him like he couldn’t do it on his own. And tears finally couldn’t be contained, overflowing to run down his cheek as he sniffled, because he hadn’t been able to do it on his own.

“Will.” The haughty tone was gone, concern in Hannibal’s voice. “Why are you so upset, I brought him here for you.”

Choking on tears Will looked up to meet Hannibal’s eyes, wanting to make sure the man could see the truth in what he was saying. “You didn’t do this _for me_ . You did this _for you._ ”

“Will-”

“You didn’t bring him here so I could kill him - you brought him here so you could make a show of fucking me into submission, show him who the big bad killer is. I know you Hannibal.”

And he felt ridiculous, naked and hard and crying, an empty thrill of victory when Hannibal seemed to concede the point. 

“Still Will, he is your chosen victim. He’s here. You can still kill him.”

“No, I can’t. It’s not… This isn’t how I wanted it.” Fresh tears and he whimpered out, “Please understand Hannibal.” He needed to be _seen_.

Hannibal watched him and understanding crossed his face and he put his arms out in invitation, letting Will tumble against him and press his face against his shoulder, holding his head there as the man sniffled. “It’s not your design.”

Will let out a shaky sigh, grateful that Hannibal understood, and it helped untwist the knot in his stomach. He needed it to be his design, his way, from beginning to end or it didn’t count. It wouldn’t _soothe_. 

“I’m sorry, Will. I should have understood that. Tomorrow we will talk about your next hunt, and I will make this up to you.” He pulled him back to press a chaste kiss to Will’s lips, and Will couldn’t help tremble against him, couldn’t help it as he shivered when the tip of his cock rubbed against the material of the man’s suit. Hannibal glanced down, a small smile twisting his mouth, “I want to touch you Will.”

He started to nod but could feel the other man’s eyes on him and shook his head instead. “Not here. Not with … him watching. Please.”

“Of course,” despite the words one of Hannibal’s hands had slipped down his back, cupping his ass before fingers ran through the cum down his thigh, two long fingers carefully pressing back inside him, “But why deny your pleasure, Will. When it is already so close?”

He shook his head against Hannibal, not pulling away but doing his best not to react as fingers curled inside him, relentlessly pressing against the bundle of nerves there, making his already throbbing cock dribble pre cum onto the man’s expensive suit. 

“The damage is already done Will, what would it hurt?”

His pride, though he didn’t think he had any left, not really. Maybe his soul, but he didn’t think he had one of those anymore either. That he would give in was as inevitable as the sun rising and by the time he nodded his consent he was already bent over the table.

He was placed intentionally, he was sure, his raised ass bared to the man he should have been killing, giving him a front row view of Will writhing and moaning as he rocked back onto Hanibal’s fingers. Hannibal grabbed one of his legs, nudging it until he lifted it to kneel on the edge of the table, leaving him unbalanced and obscenely exposed.

Just the first stroke up his cock and he was cumming, dropping all his weight onto his chest as he tried to rut against Hannibal’s hand, breathy moans and whines when Hannibal kept stroking him. The continued stimulation was overwhelming, body jerking away with nowhere to go. And he should have expected it. 

The fingers in him were relentless, not giving him any time to catch his breath, to come down from the shaking and moaning, A thumb over the head of his cock had him sobbing, and it only made Hannibal do it again as the man made soothing sounds. He pressed his toes on the foot still on the ground, trying to move away from the persistent touch, but he couldn’t get enough traction. 

His vision was blurring around the edges, shocks of bright white light, and when he came a second time he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. His eyes closed, brain short circuited by the combination of pain and pleasure, and when he opened them again he was in Hannibal’s arms again, the man’s coat wrapped around his shoulders. He startled, and Hannibal chuckled against his hair.

“I think you may have a bit of a concussion, love.” Hannibal pulled back enough to see his face, and until he swiped at the tears on his face Will didn’t realize he was still crying. Once he did, instead of being able to stop them, the tears came harder. He had reached his breaking point for the night and Hannibal’s hands were gentle as he pushed the hair away from Will’s face. “Go upstairs, I will be there shortly.” Will nodded, swaying slightly, clutching Hannibal’s coat around him like a safety blanket. Hannibal considered him, “Do you want me to let him go, so you can hunt him properly?”

“No.” He didn’t bother to explain, this victim was tainted. He didn’t want him, it didn’t fit into his design.

Hannibal nodded and watched Will leave the room. Shaking and crying, dripping his cum, the man was perfection. It took some effort to turn his attention back to the man in the chair. He looked relieved, like he thought Will not killing him meant that he’d be okay. He picked up a knife and grinned, this fit his design just fine.


End file.
